The Kiss She Claimed From The Greek

‘This is...spectacular,’ Sofie said faintly as she took in the view from Achilles’s penthouse apartment at the top of one of Manhattan’s skyscrapers just a couple of blocks south of Central Park. She was gazing at a skyline she’d only ever seen in movies or read about in books. And it didn’t disappoint.

‘I suppose this is more what you expected?’

She dragged her gaze away to look at Achilles. But not too closely. She found it was easier to avoid looking at him at all if possible. Especially when stubble lined his jaw and reminded her of the beard he’d had when they’d first met.

‘It’s stunning. But you might have to give it up now that you’re a reformed man.’

‘Pity. I like the view.’

‘It’s some view...’ Once again Sofie was trying to imprint it on her mind. A futile exercise.

Achilles went back inside. Staff had greeted them and taken their bags to the bedrooms. There were so many rooms that Sofie had grown dizzy. There was even a gym with a lap pool.

She followed him. ‘What’s the event this week and why is it so important?’

Achilles was pouring himself a drink at an art deco cabinet. He said over his shoulder, ‘It’s the biggest charity event of the season and it heralds everyone coming back from their summer holiday homes and getting back to work. It’s a major networking event as much as a fundraiser for charity.’ He turned around to face her. ‘Drink?’

Sofie shook her head quickly. ‘No, thank you.’

Achilles went over to the window and looked out. ‘It’s held in one of Manhattan’s most iconic museums. The publicity is always intense. That’s why it’s important for me right now.’

As lightly as she could, Sofie said, ‘And afterwards you’ll go back to Europe?’

Achilles shrugged. ‘I might stay here for a while. I have some business to attend to here and in South America.’

She couldn’t stop pictures forming in her mind of some sinuous Brazilian beauty twining herself around Achilles’s hard body. Sofie would be back in her homely lonely house with Pluto by then, and—

Stop, she admonished herself. Self-pity had never been her thing.

‘I might go out and explore a little before it gets too dark, if that’s all right?’

Achilles faced her. ‘Do whatever you want, Sofie. You’re my guest here this week. My driver is at your disposal. He’ll take you anywhere you like. I can order tickets for any Broadway show you’d like to see too—just name it.’

‘Would you like to see a show?’ The words were out before she could stop them, and there was an embarrassingly wistful tone in her voice.

Achilles shook his head. ‘Not really my thing.’

‘Sure...of course.’

Sofie left before she could put her foot in it even more. Of course Broadway shows weren’t Achilles’s thing. He wouldn’t be seen dead at something so popular.

The driver indulged her whim and drove around Manhattan from Central Park to Times Square. She opened the window wide and soaked it all in. Only allowing herself to feel marginally sad that she was doing it on her own and not with Achilles. He’d been to Manhattan a million times.

But no. She had one more week of being indulged with this five-star treatment and she had done the mature thing and nipped her affair with Achilles in the bud to reduce her emotional pain as much as possible. All in all, she was being thoroughly adult.

That was when she spotted a drugstore, and suddenly didn’t feel so adult any more.

As the week progressed Achilles found that the control he’d thought he was wielding was beginning to seriously fray at the edges. And that was because Sofie wasn’t behaving the way he had expected.

She was being thoroughly independent. Sightseeing every day from morning till afternoon. Not slightly fazed by the fact that she and Achilles had broken up.

You were the one who asked her to come to New York with you, a voice pointed out.

Achilles scowled at himself. He was in his office downtown, near One World Trade Center. The views encompassed the East and Hudson rivers. The Statue of Liberty.

The world was at his feet.

But he couldn’t have cared less about that right now.

Admittedly this was not a situation he’d faced before. Usually he’d rather swim in a pool full of sharks than spend time with an ex-lover. And on some level he realised now that he’d believed Sofie wouldn’t be able to hold out against the chemistry that still crackled like electricity whenever they were near each other. That she would be the one to give in and admit defeat, admit that she still wanted him.

But then he’d hardly seen her. Maybe that was her strategy. Avoid him at all costs.

Perversely it made him feel slightly better to think that she was struggling too. That perhaps her nights—in a bedroom on the other side of the apartment from his—were also populated by X-rated dreams from which she woke sweating, her heart pounding as if she’d run a marathon and her body aching for fulfilment. And then meet him over breakfast in the morning as if everything was totally fine. While her hormones raged under the surface.

He’d arrived back at the apartment late last night to find Sofie curled up in a chair dressed in soft sweats, with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, hair loose and face scrubbed clean. Her fresh-faced beauty had nearly bowled him over—and then he’d realised she was on the phone. She hadn’t even noticed him.

She was talking to her friend Claire in Scotland and raving about the show she’d seen that night, speaking so enthusiastically that Achilles had felt jealous that he hadn’t been with her to experience it. She’d sounded like a joyful child, describing everything down to the bathrooms in the theatre.

Broadway reminded him of London’s West End, and the shows his parents had taken him and his brother and sister to—the reason why he hadn’t been to a show since. But for once the memory wasn’t as acutely painful as it had been in the past. It felt more nostalgic.

And then he’d felt like a voyeur, eavesdropping on her conversation, so he’d left and made some calls. By the time he’d gone looking for her again she had gone to bed.

And now he couldn’t concentrate on work because he was too fixated on what she was doing.

He picked up his phone and made a call.

Sofie felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck and looked up to see Achilles standing in the doorway. Her heart palpitated. He was clean-shaven and wearing a three-piece suit.

She noticed the frisson of awareness rippling around the room full of women as they too clocked him.

The flower-arranging teacher clapped her hands together softly. ‘Okay, your ten minutes are up. I’ll inspect your displays now.’

Sofie stopped faffing with her flowers and stood back. Achilles leaned against the doorframe and arched a brow at her. She scowled at him. For the whole week she’d been doing her best to avoid him and pretend she wasn’t being driven mad by sexual frustration. As if she was completely okay with this arrangement. With denying herself the pleasure of his lovemaking just to protect her heart.

And now he looked as if he knew exactly how hard it was for her and was enjoying every moment of her self-inflicted torture.

He’d come home last night after she’d returned from a show and she’d been talking to Claire on the phone. She’d seen him in the reflection of the window in the lounge and deliberately emphasised what an amazing show it had been, to make it sound as if she couldn’t possibly have had a better time if he’d been with her.

But then he’d disappeared, and she’d felt deflated, and she’d had to deflect questions from her friend about their relationship for ten minutes.

‘Beautiful, Sofie. I like the way you’ve framed your arrangement with the eucalyptus.’

The class ended shortly after and the others filed out. Sofie took her time, simultaneously annoyed and excited that Achilles had tracked her down. He was still at the door, waiting.

She smiled brightly. ‘Work must be very boring if you’re looking to join a flower-arranging class.’

‘I had no idea it was even a thing,’ Achilles remarked.

The class had taken place only a few blocks from Achilles’s apartment building. He walked out with her. The sun was setting, imbuing everything with a golden glow. The city was still baking. Sofie was glad of her linen shorts and sleeveless shirt. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

‘There’s a great pizza restaurant near here if you’re hungry?’

Sofie looked at Achilles suspiciously. ‘Don’t you have meetings or calls or stuff to do?’

He shook his head. ‘Nope.’